The Eleventh Edition of Drabbles for the 100-Drabble Challenge
by NirCele
Summary: This collection contains: #8 - Hobby; #17 - Celebration; #26 - Metal; #28 - Waybread; #40 - Down the River; #51 - On the Brink; #69 - From Afar; #79 - Flaunting; #86 - My Weapon's Name; and #91 - Hunting.


**#8 – Hobby**

Glorfindel's fingers slipped on the small knife and he caught his breath, but it didn't cut him. Readjusting his grip after the tense moment, he turned it in his hand and cut it into the wooden block again.

A sliver of oak fell onto the table he was working over, and as he moved the blade further into the wood and along the edge, the lines of a body appeared. Glorfindel paused to examine it and he sighed, continuing on. Shavings dropped from the wood and a few collected near the arm that was forming, so Glorfindel blew on them to knock them away.

A few minutes later, after etching the solid edges of an elven form, he set the knife down and picked up another one, this one much smaller and tapering to a narrow point at the end. He ran it along the sharpening stone to ensure it was sufficiently sharp, and then he began the delicate work.

Tiny details appeared under the quick blade; wind-swept hair that fell halfway down the figure's back, slim yet strong shoulders, a noble and fair face, subtly engraved designs on the clothes…

Glorfindel set the knife aside to examine his efforts, and he frowned when he noticed that something seemed to be missing. After a moment of thought, his eyes brightened and he lifted the knife once more. A few strokes, and he put the blade away again.

A familiar figure stared proudly at him, a circlet carved onto the wooden forehead. The features were eerily similar to the Lord of Imladris, but that was as he remembered it. Glorfindel smiled and stretched up to place the statue alongside many others of the same. It was nestled between a woman with kind eyes and a quick smile, and another male figure with a flute raised to his lips.

Glorfindel stared at them for a long moment before sighing heavily and closing his eyes, dropping his head into his hands.

"" "" ""

 **#17 – Celebration**

Lindir's fingers danced nimbly across his harp, the music driven into his mind by multiple hours of practice. The time he had spent learning this now enabled his focus to be on other things while his fingers knew where they were supposed to go, what notes to play next. He was aided by the music the other minstrels produced from their assorted instruments.

Therefore, he examined the occupants in the Hall of Fire as he performed the song. His gaze caught on Elrond and Celebrían first, the Lord and Lady sitting beside their children as they talked, eyes sparkling and hands clasped, clearly still in love after centuries of marriage. The twins were on either side of Arwen, talking over her head about something. She occasionally chimed in with something that must have been witty, since every time she added to their conversation, all three burst into laughter.

Smiling, Lindir turned his gaze across the massive room. He spotted warriors, archers, scribes, assistants, librarians, and many other elves with various jobs that were enjoying themselves before his attention was snagged. Surprisingly, standing between two pillars in a darkened area, was Glorfindel, his golden hair caught with a silver ribbon and tied back. He held two wine goblets in his hands, drinking from one as he talked. For a moment, Lindir thought he was alone, but then he saw a shadow move and realized that Erestor was there, his eyebrow cocked sardonically and shaking his head.

Lindir couldn't understand what exactly they were saying, but it was apparent that Glorfindel wanted him to come join the celebration, while Erestor seemed satisfied to lurk in the corner. Lindir, for a strange reason that he didn't know himself, hoped that Glorfindel would succeed. He continued watching, plucking at the strings of the harp that was as tall as he.

Glorfindel, his very body posture persuasive, offered the adviser one of the goblets, talking all the while. Erestor seemed to sigh heavily, then accepted it but didn't drink. He shook his head again, and Glorfindel's lips moved even faster, gesturing with his free hand and waving at the groups scattered through the Hall.

Erestor's shoulders slumped and he said something, but it seemed less determined than before. Glorfindel straightened and he beamed, motioning insistently for Erestor to leave the small area. There was a long moment of hesitation, and Erestor raised his cup to his lips and drank deeply, then stepped out of the shadows and into the glaring light that came from the multiple fires scattered throughout the Hall. Glorfindel smiled broadly and patted his shoulder, then trotted alongside him as he chattered about something else.

Lindir caught the faintest trace of a smile tugging at Erestor's mouth when he and Glorfindel joined Elrond's family. The song ended, and Lindir glanced at his fellow minstrels, they shared a grin, and then they started the next piece of music, a fast tune that had people starting to tap their feet.

Lindir looked around the room once more, spying the happy occupants, and he smiled and played on.

"" "" ""

 **#26 – Metal**

" _What_ are you doing?" Elrond exclaimed in shock upon seeing a tiny crown fly across the room and hit the wall.

Elladan glared stubbornly. "It won't fit on my head," he said angrily, scowling at the metal circlet as if it had personally offended him – and it apparently had.

Elrohir had been trying to shove his own circlet on his little head, and seeing what Elladan had done, he took it off and threw it on the floor.

"It won't work!" Elrohir shrieked, then sat down on the floor and burst into tears.

"I hate crowns!" Elladan howled, and stomped once, angrily, on the floor. Then he ran over to Elrohir and fell down beside him, beginning to cry as well.

Elrond just stared, unable to believe that had escalated so quickly. He pressed two fingers to his brow and shook his head. Celebrían left for _one minute_ to get her handbag, and _this_ happened!

"" "" ""

 **#28 – Waybread**

Arwen was heading down the river for a nice walk alongside it when she saw Elrohir sitting on the bank, his feet trailing in the water and munching on something that looked suspiciously like the waybread she had made for the month-long patrol Glorfindel was about to go on. She stopped and looked apprehensively at her brother's back. "What are you doing?"

The twin grinned and took a bite out of the food he was holding. "I saved this _lembas_ from the last time Elladan and I went to Mirkwood. There's no use in wasting it now." He broke a piece off and flipped it into the river. An instant later, a fish appeared and gulped down the crumb, then vanished back into the water.

"That's rather wasteful," Arwen disapproved, sitting down beside him.

"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, and broke the bread in half to hand her a piece. "Here, feed the fishies, they like it."

Arwen took a small nibble from the _lembas_ , and found that it was indeed going slightly stale. She shrugged and tugged a small bit from the bread.

Elladan found them a few minutes later, sitting shoulder to shoulder and tossing pieces of bread into the water. Fish scales flashed silver as they swam away when Elladan sat down beside the two, and he grinned.

"May I join?"

"" "" ""

 **#40 – Down The River**

"What, may I ask, are you doing?" Glorfindel asked the half-grown Peredhil twins.

They glanced back at him with matching grins, then looked back at the water.

"We're waiting," said one. Glorfindel couldn't really tell them apart, since they had decided to be mischievous today and wear the exact same clothes, then braided their hair similarly.

"Waiting for what?"

"That!" cried the other twin, and immediately the two strung the bows they were holding and aimed at something floating down the river. They didn't shoot yet, but kept their arrows aligned with the object, ready to release it at any second.

Glorfindel frowned in bemusement. "Why are you shooting at a dead squirrel?"

"It's not dead; it's made from fabric and stuffed. _Nana_ made it for our archery practice," the first twin stated proudly. Glorfindel was relatively sure he knew which twin was which now.

"Since when do orcs float down rivers waiting for you to shoot at them?" Glorfindel said.

The two ignored him.

"Wait…wait…and now!" They fired in unison, both arrows arching over the rippling water and slamming squarely into the stuffed squirrel. They laughed and turned to Glorfindel.

"Did you see that?"

"Indeed. It was rather impressive," Glorfindel said, wondering why the thing hadn't completely fallen apart by now. It must have been taking a rather hard beating. "I do want to ask you, however…how are you going to retrieve your arrows?"

Elladan and Elrohir looked at it floating past them with their arrows, then exchanged strange looks.

"Oops," said one. "I hadn't thought of that."

"" "" ""

 **#51 – On The Brink**

"Erestor, give it back."

"No," said the adviser.

Glorfindel scowled at his friend, who was quick to keep the large oak table between them. He sighed heavily. "Really, Erestor?"

"Really, Glorfindel?" Erestor mimicked. "You know perfectly well not to bring this into council meetings." He waved the offending object at Glorfindel, and the Balrog-slayer lunged at it, but was stopped short by the table.

"It's vintage! Give it back!"

"That's not going to happen." Erestor stifled a laugh at Glorfindel's inelegant efforts to sneak around the table without Erestor keeping even with him.

"You know," Glorfindel tried to reason, "If Elrond comes in here, he'll see us acting ridiculous. He's used to it from me, but if he sees you doing it…"

"Good try." Erestor cast a glance backwards at the bookshelf behind him. He might be able to make it… "But Elrond is the one who made the rule that you can't bring things like this into official meetings. And with the Lothlórien envoy present, too!"

"Come on, Erestor, the meeting is over! Why can't you just give it to me?"

"That wouldn't prove my point," Erestor stated, and then turned and flung the item into the air. Glorfindel shrieked something behind him, but it was unintelligible as the object bounced along the top of the bookshelf, then clattered somewhere down at the end.

Erestor smiled and turned smugly to Glorfindel, who glowered at him. "And if you climb that bookshelf, I'm going to push it over with you on it."

"You're a heartless, cruel, conceited b –"

"Yes, yes, I know." Erestor waved his hand flippantly. "I've heard them all before." He was safe, now that Glorfindel didn't want him to give the item up, so he started gathering the papers that were still lying on the table from the meeting.

Glorfindel glared at the bookshelf, but he was already planning when the best time would be to come and sneak his wine bottle out.

"" "" ""

 **#69 – From Afar**

"You see? It's just over that mountain there? The ram, running up the side."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at his friend, then turned to look at the distant mountain. He squinted and shook his head after a moment. "I still don't see it."

The other guard sighed and shook his head. "Oh well, I guess I was _imagining_ it."

Elrohir rolled his eyes and glanced over at the fire a few hundred yards away, where a few more warriors were gathered around, talking and occasionally tossing something in the flames. "Hey, Elladan!" he called, raising his voice, and his brother glanced over.

Elrohir pointed at the mountain. "Can you see a mountain goat up there?"

Elladan looked carefully at it, scanning the ridges and the hillocks for any sign of the animal. A few seconds later, his brow creased and he shook his head. "Not there!" he told Elrohir.

Elrohir checked once more to make sure, then happened to look over at his friend. The dark-haired warrior was laughing silently, and Elrohir shoved at his shoulder. "You were making that up!"

"No, really, I wasn't," he said, wiping at his eyes because he was laughing so hard. "It just ran over the top of the hill before you saw it."

Elrohir suddenly leapt back with a startled shout. "Spider!"

His friend yelped and batted at his hair. "Where?!"

Elrohir collapsed in laughter.

"" "" ""

 **#79 – Flaunting**

When Arwen walked into the dining room, her ever-attentive brothers immediately noticed something different about her.

"What's that?" asked Elladan suspiciously, pointing at the delicate filigree brooch that was pinned securely to the bodice of her gown.

"Oh." Arwen flipped her hair daintily as she settled herself into the seat next to her mother, who was smiling as they began eating. "Just something an admirer gave me."

Elladan and Elrohir both rose to their feet immediately, faces darkening. "Who dares to court our sister without our permission?"

Celebrían choked as she tried to swallow and contain her laughter at the same time, and Elrond patted her on the back before turning exasperatedly to his sons. "Boys, sit down. No one is courting Arwen, certainly not without my knowledge."

The two slowly returned to their seats, still glowering.

Arwen twirled a bit of pastry around her fork as she cast her brothers a mischievous look. "I think you're just jealous that _you_ don't have any admirers."

Elladan just laughed, then leaned over and patted her on the head. "Oh, you poor thing – you only have one person that's brave enough to approach you, while myself…" He sighed. "I have so many I don't know what to do with them."

"That's because they don't exist," Elrohir snorted.

Elladan gave him an annoyed look. "That's what you think."

"No, that's what I want you to think that I think."

"Aha!" Elladan crowed. "That's _exactly_ what I wanted to think that I wanted you to think that you think."

Elrohir smirked. "I _know_ that's what you wanted me to think that you wanted me to think, but really –"

"That's what I wanted you to think," they said in unison, then turned at the same time and smiled at Arwen.

"So…when can we meet this admirer of yours?"

"" "" ""

 **#86 – My Weapon's Name**

"All right, everyone, you're dismissed," Glorfindel called over the sheathing of sword blades. A practice session in defensive coordination had just ended, and now everyone scattered to other duties, or to put up their weapon. One student, near the back of the group, had moved forward and was standing near Glorfindel with an obvious intent to speak to him.

"Excellent parry," Glorfindel approved as a young guard went past. He blushed and smiled, then continued on. Glorfindel looked around and caught sight of someone nearby with a question evident in their expression. "Can I help you, _pen-neth?_ " Glorfindel asked, turning to them.

"Ah…" The warrior-in-training nodded shyly. "You were talking about the names of our swords, what we should call them…that they were as much a part of our survival as anything else we bring with us on patrol –"

"– and they're simply an extension of your body," Glorfindel finished, and smiled. "I'm glad you see you were paying attention."

The student smiled and scuffed the ground with a foot, then continued, "I was wondering, since you've named your sword, I think, what the name of it was?"

"My sword?" Glorfindel ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword. "Well, you wouldn't understand the name, it's a different language than we use here, but it means 'Protector.' As Captain of the Guard, it seemed appropriate when this was given to me."

Eyes alit in interest, but the young guard remained polite. "Who gave it to you, my lord?"

Glorfindel smiled and released the sword, then patted him on the shoulder. "That is a very long story, and one for another time. Meanwhile, why don't you go ahead and put up your sword – the dinner bell will be tolling soon."

The guard nodded quickly, then hurried toward the quarters where they kept the weapons. Glorfindel hummed a low tune under his breath and followed the engraving on the hilt of his sword with his fingertips again. "My weapon's name," he mused under his breath, remembering an ancient warrior with a silver crown on his brow, diamonds in his hair, and the stars in his eyes.

Glorfindel chuckled and followed the guard.

"" "" ""

 **#91 – Hunting**

Glorfindel prowled through the kitchens, feeling very much like a hunter as he searched for his prey. He opened cabinets, pantry closet doors, shelves, pulled open drawers – and then he finally found the sweet pastries hidden in plain sight in the washbasin, covered with a clean cloth.

Glorfindel picked up the plate and walked out of the kitchens, munching happily on them. The cooks had definitely tried harder to keep them from him tonight, but they would have to up their game. He had found them far easier than last night.

He was halfway through the whole plate and crumbs were sticking all over his hands and chin, when he saw a light on underneath an office door. It was, of course, Erestor's study, and no doubt the adviser was working early into the morning again. He crept past the door, feeling like a naughty elfling, and trying not to be heard.

He had almost made it out of view when he heard the lantern in the room sputter and go out. The only light left in the hallway was from the moon shining through the high windows, and Glorfindel waited for the sound of Erestor getting up and replacing the light…but it didn't come. Curious now, Glorfindel crept over to the half-open door and peeked in.

He saw Erestor immediately, slumped across his desk and deep in sleep, a candle casting a dim light on his pale face. His face was turned toward the door, eyes partly open, and lines of weariness drawn across his brow. A quill lay beside his still fingers, and his head rested next to a letter that wasn't finished.

Glorfindel sighed and slipped inside, stealthily making his way to the closet in the far corner of the room. He opened the door and grabbed the blanket on the top shelf, then, putting his almost-empty plate of sweets on the desk, arranged the blanket across Erestor's slumbering form. Satisfied, he pinched out the flames of the flickering candle. Scooping up his plate, he again headed for the door, closing it quietly behind him, then he went on down the hallway, continuing his midnight snack fest with considerably more delight than before.


End file.
